


Incident at the Club

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [78]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: Warnings: none





	Incident at the Club

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: none

"It'll do you good to get out," Antony insists, slipping a jacket on, his keys in hand, wallet shoved in his back pocket. "And it's just Citadel, so you don't have to worry about your marks." It's been an entire fucking week they've stayed inside - well, with the exception of Antony popping out for one really important meeting with Marcus - and if _he's_ going stir-crazy, Stephen must be fucking beyond at this point.

Sun glasses on, cap pulled down, Stephen nods. "Just so long as you've no plans to have me strip naked just to show off what a clever sadist you are." It's a tease; many of his marks have faded, leaving just the deeper bruises to remind them of what they shared.

"You don't want me showing you off?" Antony teases back, pressing the button for their private elevator which opens immediately, there for their use when they want it. "That's a change."

As with so much this last week Stephen's reply is a light shrug and "Residual headspace," meaning he's still too focused on Antony to feel comfortable being the object of voyeurism. "Anyway, I need some non kink time, maybe a swim and then foooood," he drawls the latter out, following Antony into the elevator. "So much food!"

Antony laughs, reaching for Stephen's hand and twining their fingers. "You want the steakhouse or something else?"

"I don't mind, it'll just be good to get out, get some exercise and see some other faces apart from yours." Because of course it's been an _absolute_ chore to have been taken care of so very attentively by his lover and Sir this last week. 

"Sick of this ugly mug, are you?" Antony quips, in a brilliant mood and eager to spend some time out with Stephen. He loves his condo, loves being squirreled away sometimes, but this, this has been a bit much.

"Yep, just didn't want to put it quite like that," Stephen snorts, he tugs on the peak of his cap as the doors open and steps out half a step behind Antony.

Antony sticks out his tongue and unlocks the car, tossing their bags in back and slipping in behind the wheel. "Let's hit the mansion. The pool's better there," he says, waiting for Stephen to buckle up before he pulls out.

It's good to be out, and Stephen spends most of the drive staring out of the window taking it all in. It's a lovely sunny day and at some point he reaches to put the stereo on. "Is there anything else we need to sort out paper wise before we fly out at the weekend?" Six days, six days until they leave LA for New Zealand and their wedding.

"Nope. Passports are all in order, wedding papers, although we have to see the registrar the moment we get in," Antony says, going through the list in his head. "Everything's taken care of down there. We have the rings. Food's ordered, drink... We have the visas for January, reservations at the resort and hotels..."

"Feels a bit odd, like the calm before the storm you know?" Stephen turns his head to look at his lover. "Are you nervous?"

Antony has to think about that. "No. Not yet. I think I've been too busy worrying about you to think about the wedding too much," he confesses, reaching across for Stephen's hand.

"I am," Stephen confesses. "As much as when you collared me." Which wasn't all that long ago, everything with them has happened so quickly. "Old insecurities rearing their ugly head, which is hardly surprising given where I've been emotionally this last week."

"But not second thoughts?" Antony clarifies, glancing at Stephen. "You still want this, yeah?" A sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, like maybe the scene's done more damage than he ever thought.

"Of course I do," Stephen frowns and reaches up to pull off the dark glasses. "I am yours, you know this, the other shit is from before, echoes of old hurts, they don't just disappear in a matter of months, no matter how much you try to make that happen Tony, no matter how hard you love me."

Relief washes through him and Antony nods, eyes back on the road. Mostly. "I know," he murmurs, shrugging out his shoulders. "I just." Fuck. "I've never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want you, you know that. And I know having that piece of paper doesn't guarantee anything but I want that. I want to be your husband."

 _'I want to be your husband...'_ Stephen blinks at that, his heart squeezes tight. "You have me, you already have me, in so many ways, lover, Sir, best friend, protector...and yes, now husband."

Antony nods. "I know I can't just resolve your history like that. All the shit Cam did to you. And I know we've been moving fast all along, but if something was going to come up, some reason we shouldn't be together or that we weren't right for each other, I think it would have come up." Glancing over at Stephen again, a red light giving him the break he needs. "We've been laid pretty bare to each other."

Stephen doesn't reply to that. Not at first, because his gut reaction is 'no, no we haven't', because while he may have laid out everything about himself for Antony to scrutinise, his lover cannot say the same - not really. Not when Stephen knows so little about what he does when he's 'working' - but then that's Stephen's own fault, he's had the chance to ask, still has that space to bring it up, but he chooses not to, because on some level, he knows, he understands he won't like what he'll hear. Instead he lifts one shoulder. "What we have works, what we have makes me happy, you too."

He'd have to be an idiot not to catch the hesitation, see the flash of misgiving on Stephen's face. Fuck. "Is there stuff you still want to know about me?"

"Don't," Stephen shakes his head giving Antony a quick warning glance. "I don't want to do this, not now," he blows out a breath. "I said I was nervous, not that I'm having second thoughts, nerves are normal, nerves show I'm taking this seriously, but that's all it is, nerves."

Jesus Christ. Antony grits his teeth for a moment, jaw set hard, mentally kicking himself. Of course they shouldn't be fucking doing this now. Residual headspace. Any pressure's the last thing Stephen needs. "I'm sorry."

He hates seeing that tick, the one at the corner of Antony's jaw, because although he's not seen it often, he knows it means his lover is pissed. "We've been holed up a little too long, that's all, we both need to blow off some steam." God knows Stephen needs to, he's twitchy with the pent up energy he usually expends in exercise and sex. 

Antony nods. "You're right." He smiles over at Stephen, eager to put things behind them. "Should we get a room and stay the night? Might be good to have a real change of scenery."

"Yeah, that might be nice, but a suite, not a play room," Stephen teases. "I don't want you getting any ideas Mr Starr."

"I've been behaving myself," Antony protests, laughing, eyes crinkling at their corners as they merge onto the highway.

"Yeah, but it's all kind of relative with you isn't it?" Stephen chuckles 

Antony chuckles too, shaking his head. They're quite the pair. "Am I allowed to get _any_ ideas?"

"Only if you run them past me first," Stephen retorts without hesitation, it's good to get back to this, the teasing, a more even keel. Though, they'd skated close to an edge just then, so it feels even more provocative to tease like this, provocative, but healthy.

"Fair enough." Antony flashes an unrepentant grin at Stephen. "I'll give you a list after dinner and you can vet them."

"Excellent." The word is drawled and he reaches to poke his lover lightly in the ribs. "Sounds like a plan!"

"Hey. Driving here," Antony protests, poking back, one hand kept firmly on the wheel. "Now who's getting ideas?"

"Poking you lightly in the ribs, fully clothed is 'getting ideas'?" Stephen laughs at that, "Are you serious?" 

"It's a slippery slope," Antony says, eyes dancing.

"Only for the most confirmed of perverts," Stephen retorts, pulling his cap off and slipping his glasses back on as they pull into the Citadel compound. 

It's a good time of day to be here and they have their pick of spaces near the front door. Antony parks, grabs their bags and meets Stephen on the sidewalk, already taking advantage of one of his favourite perks: holding his boy's hand. Inside, he checks them in at the front desk and reserves a room for later and a table in the clothing-required section of the steakhouse for dinner. Keycard in hand, Antony turns his attentions back to Stephen. "You want a drink first or head straight for the pool?"

"Pool!" And yes, Stephen sounds _almost_ like an overexcited kid, but damn, he's almost jittery with the need to work out, and swimming is a happy compromise - he won't undo any of the healing he's done in the past week. Just a few more days and he'll be back at the gym proper - on that he's quite determined. "Please..."

"Pool's fine with me." Like Antony's going to deny Stephen anything he wants right now.

"Thank you." At least Stephen remembers his manners, he falls in beside his lover as they head out of the lobby. 

They head for the change room, the attendant opening a couple of the larger lockers for them and handing them keys on black rubber coils. Antony slips his around his wrist and strips down, pulling his board shorts from his bag. "I want to spend some time in the hot tub too," he says, shoving his socks in his boots and sticking them in the locker.

Stephen doesn't get shorts, Stephen gets to be utterly naked, which works for him. Mostly because it pleases his Sir, it doesn't stop him eyeing Antony's shorts with a pout. "So not fair," he grumbles. "I like seeing how the other guys look at me when they've checked you out."

Antony laughs. "You really want me to leave them?" he asks, the shorts in hand, standing there. It's not like he's a prude, hell no, but he's not into casual nudity either, not for himself anyway.

His nose wrinkling in thought Stephen ponders the offer. "Seems a shame to deny all the hot gay men the sight of you...but then how likely is it you're gonna get a raging hard on at some point while we're swimming?" And just to prove that point, he pulls off his own underwear, and stands up straight in all his naked, ripped, bruised and newly pierced glory.

"One hundred percent if you're there," Antony responds, his body reacting instantly to Stephen's nakedness. Christ.

"Incorrigible," Stephen shakes his head, his mouth curved up in a far-too-pleased-with-himself smile. "S'why I adore you." 

"That and my money," Antony grins, only teasing - a running joke between them - because there's no one else around.

"Oh yes!" Stephen pretends to exclaim his surprise, "I forgot all about the cash, and then of course there is the penthouse..." He stuffs his bag into a locker and slides the key on its band around his wrist. 

Antony chuckles. "So did we decide?" he asks, holding up the shorts. "Yay or nay?" It's not crazy busy today so he's willing to go either way. Plus this whole last week since their scene has been all about what Stephen wants. At least from his end.

It costs him, because Stephen would love to have his lover and Sir naked, to have other men admire the man he calls 'his', but he also knows how ambiguous Antony can be about nudity. "Put them on, I shall have to make do with imagining the other men's reactions," he grins.

Antony laughs and pulls the shorts on, leaving them hanging low on his hips. He grabs two large fluffy towels from the pile on the counter and leads the way out onto the pool deck. "Where do you want to sit? Here?" Nodding towards two loungers already angled towards the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the gorgeous grounds.

"Sit? I'm not sitting anywhere," Indeed Stephen can barely keep his eyes off the water. The urge to exercise is right _there._.

"I meant later and for the towels," Antony says, shaking his head as he tosses a towel on each chair. "Go on. I'll be there in a second."

It was permission Stephen wasn't aware he was waiting for, but the moment Antony gives him the go ahead he's off, launching himself into the water in one long smooth dive.

Antony watches Stephen slice through the water, impressed with his boy's form. He's always considered himself a lucky man, but now, with Stephen in his life, he can say he feels truly blessed. Not that he's done anything to deserve it. A server comes by and Antony orders waters for them. He'll switch to scotch later but it's a bit early to start. Unlike Stephen, he opts to take the stairs into the pool, slowly wading his way into the water, which is just the right temperature.

Stephen doesn't pause until he's done several lengths, then he pops his head up to check where his Sir is at before gliding over, swiping a hand over his face to wipe away the excess water. "I feel better for that."

"I'll bet." Antony smiles. "It's been hard, hasn't it? This last week. In terms of keeping quiet, not being able to move around, work out..."

"Yeah, I mean not at first, but the last few days...not even sex took the edge off you know? There's a certain buzz you get from regular exercise...and that feeling of feeling physically tired...yeah I missed it," Stephen nods. "I can't wait to get back to the gym, and I never thought I'd say that."

Antony nods his agreement. "I get that way when I'm not working sometimes. Which is why I'd probably have to do something like the boxing thing you mentioned if I retire," he says, sinking down into the water, only his head above it. "I'm looking forward to doing some serious hiking on our honeymoon."

"When," Stephen corrects with a grin, then he pushes away from the side, "I like the sound of that, hiking and particularly 'honeymoon'."

"When," Antony amends agreeably, eyes crinkling. "And me too. Home then here for Christmas and then Nepal and Goa. I can't wait."

Stephen moves closer, right into Antony's space. "It's not home, I'm home remember?" he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss, his lips brushing over his lover's stubble before finding his mouth. "I will always be your home."

Antony nods, pulling Stephen in even closer. "Yeah, you will. Always." Surprised by the slip of his tongue. It's been a long time since he's really considered New Zealand home.

Stephen indulges himself in a long lazy sensual kiss with his lover, before he pulls back, smiling. "I love you, but I need to swim!" he teases, pulling back and disappearing under the water.

Antony laughs and watches Stephen go, leaning against the side of the pool and just letting himself float. He nods at a couple newcomers as they make their way into water then returns his gaze to his boy, glad he insisted on them getting out today.

For the next thirty minutes Stephen is head down, back and forth, length after length, until his body feels looser, there's a warmth in his muscles that's been lacking for a week. It's a warm up, little more, but it feels good. 

Antony does a couple of laps but they're nothing like Stephen's. Lazy sidestroke, his eyes on his lover, on the men watching his boy, warning them off without a single word. And then he's back against the wall, simply enjoying the feeling of the water on his skin, the joy of just floating...

Oblivious to the attention he's garnered, or his Sir's silent intervention, Stephen soon slows, gliding through the water to his lover, his eyes bright and full of the joy of feeling _so_ good. "Hey," he smiles, shaking water from his eyes. 

"Hey." Antony grins. "You look happy."

"I am." The agreement is easy. "Very fucking happy, I feel fantastic, I have you, I have a pool, I have dinner to look forward to...what's not to be happy about?" Stephen pushes back so he's floating arms out, legs up bobbing in the warm water.

"Nothing at all," Antony says, standing up and smiling down at Stephen as he floats. "Not to mention, serious time off, a wedding coming up, honeymoon after..." He grins, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Meeting my parents and sisters and nieces..."

"Gah!" Stephen splashes himself upright at that. "I am crapping myself about _that_!" He shakes his head, "I mean...we're getting married at their house, what if they don't like me?" 

"Are you kidding me?" Antony shakes his head. "They'll love you. Trust me."

Stephen keeps his reservations to himself, particularly the one about how Antony's father was hoping for a daughter-in-law. "Hmm, we'll see," he teases back. "You'll have to tell me how to bribe them all."

"Toys for the girls, chocolates for my sisters and mum and a good bottle of scotch for my dad," Antony says, leaning and kissing Stephen on the mouth. "They're easy and my dad'll be fine," he adds, knowing Stephen has to be concerned about that. "He's been getting used to the whole idea for ages now."

"I want it to be perfect, I only get to do this once..." Stephen winds his arms around Antony's neck. 

"I know but if you make me happy, that's all that's going to matter to them and I know them - they'll love you," Antony says, wrapping his arms around Stephen's waist. "How could anyone not?"

It's there right on his tongue, 'Cam didn't, neither did the guy before him...' but Stephen bites it back, they came too close earlier to falling out over something silly he's not about to upset things again. "I know," is all he murmurs, chin dipped a little.

"Besides, if you won Marcus over, I guarantee you can win any of my friends and family over," Antony murmurs, eyes crinkling again. He hugs Stephen close, knowing it's not that easy, that he can't just wipe away his fears, that it won't truly be okay until Stephen's met everyone and satisfied himself.

"Nothing else matters, other than me being yours," Stephen murmurs the words into Antony's ear. "That's what makes me happy, being only and all yours."

"Good, because that's all that matters to me too," Antony whispers back, kissing the side of Stephen's throat. Lips caressing his collar.

Stephen's eyes slide shut at the touch, he tips his head over, allowing his Sir all the access he needs, his fingers press into the meat of Antony's shoulders. "I'm going to be a husband," a smile warms his words.

"Yes, you are," Antony murmurs, mouth moving over skin and metal, teeth teasing, nipping lightly, the marks he's already left on Stephen more than enough. "My husband. And I'm going to be yours. And we'll have the rings and the paper to prove it."

"Sir... please... I'm..." But Stephen doesn't need to finish, because the evidence of what he's trying to say is pressing against Antony's hip.

"Do you want me to stop?" Antony asks, returning to just kissing Stephen's throat.

He feels like a shit for it, like a bad boy, but Stephen grits his teeth and pushes out the words. "I need... I need to exercise some... more." That fidgety feeling of having been confined for too long is still there, he needs to use his body until it aches again, otherwise he'll be distracted until he can. "I'm sorry Sir..."

"It's okay. We're here the whole day," Antony says, drawing back and smiling at Stephen. He can't help how he reacts to his boy, but that doesn't mean he needs to accost him every single chance he gets. "Give me a kiss and then you can go do some more laps."

Relieved to have gotten away so lightly, Stephen does as he's told, he presses a full kiss to his Sir's mouth before pulling back and with one last lingering look he's off again, pushing through the water with determination and speed.

Antony doesn't feel like he needs the work out - just the break from the condo - so he moves to the hot tub for a few minutes then to his lounger, keeping Stephen in sight at all times. He downs a full bottle of water, orders a scotch and a newspaper and sits back, gaze flickering between articles and his boy.

It must be a good hour later when Stephen feels like he's kicked that feeling, his body has a pleasant glow as he pushes up out of the water and makes his way over to where Antony is laid out. "I feel so much better for that," he smiles down at his lover.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Antony says, drinking in the sight of Stephen naked and dripping wet. Christ. Glad he wore the shorts, especially since he needs to behave today. "There's water," he nods towards the full bottles beside him.

Stephen's lip curls up, "I want something sweet." He picks up the towel and rubs himself down before catching the attention of a server to order himself a coke with ice. Then he drops down on the lounger beside Antony, peering down at his cock and the still not familiar ring in it.

"Does it still feel strange?"

Stephen's grin is a little shame faced when he looks up. "Yeah, and I keep wanting to fiddle with it." Which is odd, because he's normally very good at not touching his cock; which he considers to belong to his Sir and not himself.

"A few more weeks and we can play with it," Antony says, the thought of which only makes him harder.

Brows going up at that, Stephen glances down again. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that," he huffs out a laugh and then leans back to sprawl out - utterly oblivious to the way he looks - all ripped and damp with fading bruises. 

"You like the look of it though?" Antony asks, curious how Stephen honestly feels about having his cock pierced. A couple pass by - an older woman in a silk cover-up with a much younger 'boy' on a leash, him crawling across the tiles - _fucking ouch_ \- and the woman's eyes move over Stephen, quickly but appreciatively and she nods at Antony. He nods back.

"Oh yeah, it's cool, I like it, I even like that heaviness I mentioned." He turns his head, eyes only for the man beside him. "What about you? Never thought about it?"

"Getting my cock pierced?" Antony clarifies.

"Well, anything," Stephen shrugs, and then pushes up when the waiter appears with his coke. "Thank you," he murmurs before lifting the glass to his mouth and taking a long drink.

"Not really," Antony says, thinking about it for a minute. "Anything that can catch on stuff, even if you can put a spacer or something in, isn't a good idea with my work, and the few times I thought about tattoos - mostly when I was completely pissed - luckily I didn't because they're identifying marks..."

"Not if it's on your ass," Stephen retorts, licking a drop of cola from his lip. "So I get to be your canvas then huh?" 

Antony grins. Widely.

"Just as well my work also precludes a lot of the shit you'd get done on me then huh?" Stephen goes so far as to poke his tongue out in a rather childish fashion. 

"You really think I'd want to do that much to you?" Antony says with a laugh at the tongue.

"You'd get my nipples done, probably some in my balls, you'd brand me, maybe some scarification too, some real stuff." He's referring to the small 'A' over his hip, which he's sure will only leave a very faint mark when it's healed. "So yeah, I think you'd get that much done, you get off on marking me," he shrugs and sets his glass down, relaxing back again.

"Maybe you're right - but _only_ because I get off on marking you," Antony says, sipping at his scotch. "You're perfect as you are."

Stephen glances up at that, one of those seemingly casual compliments that catch him out and have his belly tightening. "I'm glad you think so."

"I do," Antony says, reaching across the space between the loungers for Stephen's hand which he brings to his mouth, a kiss pressed to the knuckles. "You're my beautiful boy."

It's a rather old fashioned and romantic gesture, Stephen smiles, eyes only for his Sir. "I love you Sir," he murmurs back.

"I love you too." Antony gives Stephen's hand a squeeze before letting him have it back. "Have you had enough swimming?"

"Yes thank you." He turns a little toward his lover. "What would you like to do? Can I serve you at all?" His intense head space from the scene a week ago had taken days to recede, but now Stephen's ready to be Antony's boy again.

"What'd you have in mind?" Antony asks, a little reluctant to suggest anything straight out since Stephen's still not recovered completely.

"Some light service Sir, maybe?" Stephen can't help looking a little hopeful, he loves being on his knees for Antony, even more so when they are here and he can show off a little - it's not beneath Stephen to be a little prideful in his submission and the gorgeous man he serves.

Antony nods. "I could use a refill on my scotch," he says, draining his glass. "To start with."

"Thank you Sir." Stephen rolls off his lounger and takes Antony's glass, and despite the fact he is now essentially in role, he leans in to brush a kiss a over his Sir's mouth. Then he's up, and making for the small bar over the opposite side of the huge pool room.

Antony watches Stephen the whole time, eyes glued to his boy, to every ripple of muscle, every fading mark. _His_ collar around _his_ boy's throat.

"Wow those are some bruises." 

Stephen turns from where he's just ordered Antony's scotch and fresh coke for himself, surprised at the remark. He finds a young guy, maybe early 20s giving him the once over. He quirks a brow, "Yes they are," he agrees easily. "I wear them for my Sir."

When the guy looks up to respond, his eyes widen. "Holy shit! I know who you are!" he blurts out, "You’re the ‘Arrow’!" 

Stephen sighs. "Yeah," he nods, half turning away back to the bartender, who is clearly watching this exchange with interest. 

Undeterred the guy carries on. "Wow, huh who'd have thought you of all people would be - what? A slave?" He shakes his head, his tone and use of ‘slave’ implying Stephen should be ashamed. 

Stephen's back stiffens at that. "I'm going to ask you stop talking and leave me alone, I don't appreciate your tone or insinuation," he says evenly, glancing up at the bar man, they exchange a look and Stephen picks up the glass and turns away - confident the bar man will deal with the young man's incredible display of disrespect. It doesn't stop Stephen feeling deeply uncomfortable as he makes his way back to his Sir.

"What was that about?" Antony asks when Stephen returns, watching the young man who addressed his boy talking to the bartender.

Stephen hands over Antony's drink and sets his own down - and then hesitates - because he wants to kneel for his Sir, to seek the comfort he'd gain from the act, from his Sir, but he doesn't want that man seeing him do so. _'You of all people?'_ echoes in his mind - and in that moment Stephen hates himself, for putting his discomfort above his Sir. He picks up his towel and wraps it around his waist before sitting down. 

"He recognised me, and was a little rude about it," Stephen shrugs, eyes down. "He was surprised I'm wearing a collar." His words are casual enough, belying his inner turmoil.

Cold settles over Antony like a blanket - not only at the words but how they've obviously affected Stephen - and he sets his drink down. "Stay here," he orders. "I'll be right back." Heading over to where the bartender is still talking to the young man.

"Mark." He nods at the bartender.

The bartender nods back. "Mr. Starr."

"I understand you had something to say to my boy?" Antony says, turning to the young man.

"Shawn is new to the club," Mark interjects with a soft sigh. "His parents are paying for his membership."

Stupidity then, not maliciousness, if Mark's intervening.

"I didn't know," Shawn says, ducking his head. "It's just - he's Oliver Queen!"

"No, he's not," Antony says firmly. "He's Stephen Amell. Oliver Queen is a character he plays on TV. And outside of that, he's my boy. Which doesn't make him any less. It takes a great deal of strength to be a submissive and to serve someone."

Stephen watches, and he wishes he could look away, his hands are clasped in his lap, his knuckles white. He hates this, hates when his Sir is pushed to feeling like he has to intervene - just like when they were in Italy - but this time it's different, this time Stephen feels deeply unsettled by the guy's reaction to him. _'you of all people'._

Shawn reddens, glancing between Mark and Antony, not really sure where to look.

"And either way you should have kept your mouth fucking shut," Antony says, his jaw tight. "That's one of the first and biggest things to know about being here. Stephen and I? We're really good friends with Louis Garneau. You know who that is?"

Fuck. Shawn wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. His parents are so going to kill him if they find out about this. He nods.

"What's your last name, Shawn?"

"Dupont," Shawn whispers.

"Good. I want you to get the fuck out of my sight. You see me or my boy, you head the other way. We enter a room you're already in, you leave it. And right now, you're going to head to the front desk and sign up for the 101 class. I'll check later to make sure you took it and if I find out you didn't, I'll be filing a formal complaint, a copy of which will go to your parents as your sponsors."

Shawn nods.

"Got it?" Antony insists.

"Yes. Can I go now?" Shawn asks, terrified he's going to break down in front of these guys. In front of everyone.

Antony nods. "Go on."

Mark watches Shawn leave, shaking his head. "More money than sense, that one," he says.

"He should have been told how to behave at orientation," Antony says, seriously pissed off.

"I'm sure he was," Mark says, "but they don't always listen. Or have the brains to take it in." He smiles at Antony. "I'm sorry. Please give Mr. Amell my apologies as well. I'll file a complaint when I get off shift. Just something to go in his file in case it's needed in the future."

"Thanks. I appreciate it," Antony says, shaking Mark's hand.

"I was talking to him before you came over," Mark points out, figuring he's known Antony long enough to be able to say that.

"I know, but it's my boy," Antony returns. "And if he was being an asshole on purpose? I would've..." he trails off. Maybe it's better not to give voice to that. "Never mind. I'd better get back to Stephen."

Mark nods. He's always got that vibe from Antony. Charming and smart but with an edge... he watches Antony walk back, hoping he can salvage his day here with Stephen, who had clearly been thrown by the shit Shawn was spouting.

Stephen's eyes are lowered when Antony nears, his chin dipped, his fingers laced tightly together. _It's me...it's my fault, that's why it always happens, it's me..._ He says nothing, unsure if he should, or indeed how to respond.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," Antony says, taking a seat on the edge of his lounger and pulling it even closer to Stephen. He wraps his hands around Stephen's, simply holding them. "The guy's new, sponsored in by his parents, and he has no fucking clue what he's talking about. He's being sent back to take the 101 class and learn to behave."

There's a subtle slumping in Stephen's shoulders. "You know what he said to me? 'who'd have thought you of all people would be - what? A slave?'...and instead of finding pride in my submission, in what we have, I felt diminished by it, by something that is as integral to me as the colour of my eyes," he looks up now, his pain obvious. "What's wrong with me?"

Shit. There's a second in which he wants to go after Shawn and beat the shit out of him anyway. "Nothing's wrong with you," Antony says once the feeling's passed. "He caught you out and he said something shitty and you're probably still feeling a little off-kilter after last week."

"But he's no one to me, why would his opinion matter? Why would his words do that? And why does that keep happening, like that guy in Italy, looking at me, or him, talking to me like they have a right to some part of me, do I give off some pathetic vibe that makes it okay? I hate it, I hate you have to go deal with it like I'm some child who can't take care of himself, and I hate that right now? I don't feel I have the right to this?" he pulls one hand free and brings it to his collar. He's working himself up into an emotional storm and he can't seem to stop it.

"Hey." Antony grabs Stephen's hand. "I'm the one who gets to say whether you deserve to wear that and as far as I'm concerned, you do." He shifts closer again, still holding Stephen's hands, aware people are watching them and determined not to give them a fucking show. "Listen to me. I want you to think about our scene last week. I want you to think about all you took for me, all you gave me.... how many boys could do that for their sirs?"

Silent for a long moment, Stephen murmurs out his reply. "Not many," he concedes. But he can still feel the weight of his collar, and for once it's not a comfort.

Antony nods. "There's nothing pathetic about you," he says firmly, every ounce of conviction in his voice. "Nothing. You're one of the strongest men I know and your submission, your being my boy, does nothing to take away from that. In fact, it only emphasizes it. As for why it bothers you, what he said? I don't know. Maybe he caught you at the wrong time, maybe it's because you weren't expecting it, maybe it's because you still feel conflicted about your submission sometimes... it could be one thing or a bunch of them but it's not a reason to tear yourself down even more. You're human and we all let people fuck us up sometimes, even when we know they're not worth it."

Finally Stephen gives in, and allows himself to do what he wants, what he _needs_. He shuffles forward and slides from the lounger and onto his knees, not to present himself, but so he can bury his head in his lover's lap and seek the comfort he's craving.

Heart aching for his lover, Antony wraps his arms around Stephen's shoulders and hugs him in close, silent, hoping he's said enough, that it's gotten through, made _some_ difference.

Eyes closed, Stephen lets himself be soothed by the familiar scent of his Sir - albeit overlaid with the faint hint of chlorine - by the arms around him, the fingers that caress his skin. If he could, he'd stay here all day, hiding and safe. 

Antony's tempted to offer they go up to their room, but that's just running away. Letting Shawn ruin their day here. Their first day out in over a week. "Know what I could really use?" he says instead, attempting to refocus things.

Stephen reluctantly lifts his head, eyes and lashes damp, but his gaze is steady as he meets Antony's eyes. "What?" And he can't add 'Sir'...he just can't.

"A back rub," Antony says with a small smile. "My shoulder's really bothering me. Think you could work on it?"

Stephen nods. "Yes, of course," he smiles, it's a little pinched around the edges, but it's real enough. "Shall I go get some oil?" 

Antony nods. "That'd be nice."

Rolling to his feet, Stephen retucks the towel around his waist, still not entirely comfortable being naked again. "I'll be right back." Having a task, a focus, is exactly what he needed, so he sets about it with purpose.

Antony shifts forward on his lounger, throwing one leg over the other side and moving to straddle it, his gaze on the blue of the pool. Fuck. Of all the times and places. He drains half his second scotch in one gulp, the alcohol humming through his veins, and waits for Stephen to return.

Stephen's back a few minutes later. He has his shorts in one hand and a bottle of oil in the other. 

"Tony...can I put my shorts on?" It's an odd mix, the intimate name he rarely uses in public alongside a question for his Sir, but it's a clear indication of his mental upset. 

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead." Antony's sure there are dominants who would balk at the suggestion their boy or girl wear clothes here, or being called by their first name, never mind a pet one, but he could care less. All he wants is for Stephen to feel settled again.

"Thank you." The shorts are pulled on, and Stephen sets aside the towel, "Do you want to lie down, or sit up and I'll work from behind?" At home Antony sits on the floor between his lover's legs while Stephen works on his neck and shoulder, but even Stephen wouldn't countenance that here.

"Let me turn the chair more and I'm good where I am," Antony says, moving the lounger so he's got more of a view out the windows over the grounds, instead of staring at the pool and the people on the other side.

Stephen settles behind his lover, and uncaps the oil, spilling some into his hands and setting aside the bottle before he smooths his palms up and out over the splay of Antony's shoulder blades. "You're so smart," he smiles, leaning in a little. "Giving me a task, and one where I can touch you...you know me so well."

"Maybe. I didn't know for sure if it would work or not," Antony points out, making a soft sound of pleasure as Stephen's hands move over his skin. "And my shoulder _is_ really hurting."

"I think you should get it looked at again, before we fly to New Zealand," Stephen counters, a frown of concern on his face now. "I'd hate for you to be in pain while we're away."

"It's just the rotator cuff," Antony insists. "It'll be fine. It always takes a while to heal once I fuck it up."

"Indulge me." There's insistence in Stephen's tone as he moves to concentrate on the shoulder in question. 

Antony winces, biting back a grunt of pain. Anyone else and he'd be so much more stubborn. "Fine," he sighs. "I'll see Doc before we go."

Of course Stephen feels it, that sudden tension, he eases up, and leans in to press a kiss to the back of Antony's neck. "Thank you." He knows he's getting away with something no one else could. "What happened earlier, I think I need to talk about it - not now, maybe in a few days, when I've processed a bit, gained some perspective."

"I know. I figured you would. I just didn't want it to be today, while you're still feeling vulnerable," Antony says. He shakes his head. If he ever sees Shawn again... but no, he shouldn't be thinking that way. Not when the guy's just a fucking idiot.

"Okay," There's nothing more Stephen wants to say on the subject, he wants to forget what happened, he wants to forget how it made him feel. So he puts all his focus, all his attention on working out that knot of tension beneath his fingers, and pleasing the man before him.

"Mm. Fuck that feels good," Antony murmurs, grunting softly as Stephen works him over.

That makes Stephen smile. "I'm going to make you feel even better later," he whispers, thumbs pushing over the now red skin, "I'm going to pleasure you, remind you why you keep me."

Antony's cock kicks up at the promise and he smiles. "I never need reminding, but I still like the sound of that."

"Yeah?" Stephen shuffles closer, distracted a little from his task. "How shall I do it? Shall I offer my mouth for you to fuck, or shall I worship your ass with my tongue?" He's being deliberately provocative, now Antony's shoulder has been tended to, he's looking for further distraction - and what better way than to lose himself in sex.

Antony groans. Christ. "You haven't done the second in a while," he murmurs, cock straining against the fabric of his shorts now.

"No, I haven't," Stephen agrees, "Remiss of me." 

Antony grins over his shoulder. "So how later is later?"

Chuckling, Stephen leans in and makes to bite at his Sir's shoulder. "You're the boss...remember?"

"Yes, but I promised not to get any ideas," Antony points out, cock jerking at the bite.

"I don't believe it was your idea, was it?" Stephen's smile is pressed to Antony's skin now as he nuzzles in more bitey kisses. "So no promises broken."

Antony chuckles. "Let's pop up to our room then."

Laughing, Stephen climbs off the lounger and offers Antony his hand. "C'mon, show me the way."

"Are you gonna want to swim again?" Antony asks, taking Stephen's hand and rising to his feet, his erection tenting his shorts. "Or should we grab our things?"

Antony's arousal is blatantly obvious, and it amuses Stephen, he's entirely too smug with himself. "Grab our stuff," he nods. "I have a different kind of workout planned."

They get their things from their lockers and make their way upstairs, still in their shorts but dry enough not to be dripping on anything. Antony slides the key through the lock and pushes the door open, setting his bag just inside and dumping the rest of his stuff on the desk.

"Alone again," Stephen smiles, wandering around the room to check it out. Part of him is relieved, here he is safe, here he has no one else to concern himself with other than Antony. 

Antony thinks about saying something but they both agreed they'd talk about it later. He does, however, ask, "You okay?"

Stephen looks up at that, across the room, he meets his lover's questioning gaze, the lie is there, just for a moment before he shrugs. "Unsettled, but then I have been all week," he glances down to where his fingers rub the soft leather of the chair he's stood beside.

"Is there anything I can do?" Antony asks, unsure if it's something that needs to be resolved or will resolve on its own.

Sighing, Stephen shrugs again, "You've been incredibly attentive, you've taken care of my every need, and I'm still confused, overly sensitive - so no, I don't think there is anything you can do."

Antony nods his understanding. He grins, changing the subject. "You still up for worshipping my ass?"

"Always," Stephen laughs, glad of the levity, pleased to do something for his Sir. "How do you want it? Face down, ass up? Or you gonna sit on my face?" He's being particularly crude, in keeping with the teasing vibe.

"I think I'll go with option number two again," Antony says with a laugh.

"Okay!" Stephen heads over to the bed and shoves his shorts down, setting them aside before pulling back the covers and climbing up on to the pristine sheets.

Stripping off his shorts as well, Antony joins Stephen on the bed. "You need me to move, slap me on the leg, okay?"

It's odd, this is the first time Stephen's gone into this not being very firmly in his 'boy' space. He wriggles down, his head flat to the bed. "Slap you? Really?" he chuckles, reaching out for his lover. "C'mere."

"You know what I mean," Antony says, eyes crinkling. He turns around, throwing a leg over Stephen. Straddling him, facing his feet, erection pointed at his chest and belly.

"Hmmm," Stephen hums out a noise of appreciation, he's usually so busy taking care of his Sir's cock that he really doesn't spend much time at all admiring what is a very fine ass. Each buttock is dusted with a generous amount of hair, warm and crisp beneath his palms as he cups each one. Thumbs brush back and forth as he eases his lover into this, then he lifts his head to nuzzle at the warm, musky taint.

A soft sound of pleasure spills from Antony's lips and he braces his hands on his thighs, shifting slightly against Stephen's face, against that nuzzling, his cock kicking up in response.

Stephen starts at the base of his Sir's balls, licking and kissing, his tongue firm against hot skin. He uses his nose too, pressing in, creating different levels of touch as he works his way up, until he's finally at Antony's hole, the muscle flutters in anticipation, Stephen closes his eyes and licks over it, before swirling the flat of his tongue around and over, a slow, steady, almost teasing pace. 

"Ah fuck yeah," Antony murmurs, keeping himself up, braced. Giving Stephen the time to do this and do this well. Christ. His cock dripping strands of precome onto his boy's skin.

Once more Stephen loses himself in his Sir - his lover, only this time it's not head space or pain, it's a whole different type of sensation - the rasp of hair against his lips, nose, chin, the heat, the dark taste and most sensual of all for Stephen is the smell; the perfume of his lover's body, male, intoxicating and musky.

Fuck. Antony grunts with pleasure, rocking his hips, starting to push for a little more.

Antony is clearly getting impatient, so Stephen ups the ante, he starts to press his tongue to the pucker of Antony's ass, licking, pushing, he makes low, hungry noises as he goes after his Sir's pleasure.

Cursing under his breath, Antony wraps his hand around his cock and strokes off as Stephen pushes his tongue inside him. "Fuck yes. Get in there," he groans.

Using his fingers, inching them in a little more and more to prise Antony's ass open, Stephen tongue fucks his Sir, the snuffling noises are wet and hungry, his mouth and chin slick with his own spit as he eats away at an increasingly slack hole. 

"Jesus fuck," Antony grits out, grinding down, his cock slicking his hand with warning spurts. "Close," he tells Stephen, wanting to make it last, but there's no fucking way.

A nose full of musk, his Sir's dark taste fills his mouth, Stephen growls into the hot wet flesh, fingertips right at the edges of Antony's pucker he worms his tongue as deep as he can.

And that's it. Fuck. Antony goes over with a shout, cock throbbing, spurting hotly against his fingers.

He eases his Sir through his shuddering, noisy orgasm by gentling, but not stopping, his attentions, only when Antony starts to slump does Stephen moves his hands, rubbing gentle circles over the firm globes of his lover's ass. 

"Fuck me..." Antony breathes, moving to stretch out beside Stephen.

Drawing the back of his hand over his mouth, Stephen turns his head to look at his Sir as Antony drops down beside him, his skin suddenly cool at the loss of his lover's body heat. He huffs out a rough laugh, "I think I'll pass, thanks."

Reviewing what he said, Antony shakes his head at himself. "Yeah, no, not gonna happen..."

Pushing up onto his elbow to look down at his distinctly flushed and sweaty Sir, Stephen quirks a brow at that. "No? Never?" It's more of a tease than anything.

"Hey. You're the one who just passed," Antony points out, casually avoiding a real answer.

"Fair point," Stephen grins and reaches out to pet over Antony's chest hair, rubbing at slightly damp skin.

There's a silent sigh of relief that Stephen doesn't push any further, and Antony's not really sure what that's all about. He used to get fucked. Occasionally. Very occasionally. A very long time ago. "I love you," he says, smiling at Stephen and leaning in for a kiss. Tasting himself on his boy.

"I love you too," Stephen murmurs back, he rolls into Antony's body and drapes himself over his Sir. "Was good huh? You feel suitably worshipped?" 

"Oh, yeah..." Antony laughs. "You're incredible."

"Good," Stephen closes his eyes and rubs his cheek against Antony's chest. "S'what I wanted."

"Yeah?" Antony kisses the top of Stephen's head. "What about now? Nap? Food?" Well aware they sort of missed lunch. Or pushed it later than planned anyway.

"We're at the club, it's always food, well, right after the sex, it's always food," Stephen smiles into warm skin that smells of sex.

"Order up or get dressed and go down?" Antony assumes the first but he certainly doesn't want to deprive Stephen of the chance to do the second.

"Hmm, so long as I can have a very quick shower, let's go down, I can't keep hiding away with you." Stephen stretches out, toes wriggling. "Can we go to the bar and see if anyone is getting nasty?"

Antony grins. "Definitely. I'm gonna join you for that shower though," he says, kissing Stephen firmly before rolling off the bed to his feet.


End file.
